Mo Bai owned a small tea stall located along the main road outside the city. It was a modest establishment where travelers could stop for a drink, a light snack, and a brief rest. It also served as a source of income, though it wasn't much. On the seventh of April each year, he would usually close the stall for the day. Only when the night grew deep and the winds howled like wolves would he light a dim candle, sit back in his bamboo chair beneath the stall, and quietly wait for customers to arrive.

  The stall was quiet, as it usually was on this particur night, with only the soft rustling of the wind through the trees for company. It was during this time that Mo Bai reflected on the fleeting nature of business and life, waiting for something—anything—to break the stillness.

  He knew that this night, like every other, held its own peculiar weight.

  Xue Qiutian dragged her fat body, waving the ghostly fire-like scarf, and shouted at Mo Bai, “I′m here; bring me a pot of good strong tea!”

  Mo Bai stretched out his foot, as white as a steamed bun, and picked up a small white porcein teapot from the table, mumbling, “It′s ready.”

  “Looks like a bamboo pole, but has a pair of hands and feet like a monkey’s,” Xue Qiutian grinned with her blood-red mouth, pced the red scarf under the teapot, poured herself a cup of tea, and sat down next to Mo Bai.

  "Hmph," Mo Bai let out a muffled sound from his nose. He couldn't stand Xue Qiutian's vicious, wicked mouth. He had imagined countless times putting a mute drug in her tea, so that his ear would be spared from the constant noise.

  "Yo, you've all arrived!" A delicate, seductive voice suddenly came from not far away. Xue Qiutian abruptly sprayed a mouthful of tea, which nded perfectly on Mo Bai's white brocade clothing.

  Mo Bai suddenly leaped up like a mad monkey, his face turning red as he shouted, "Why did you spray it at me?!"

  Xue Qiutian burst into ughter, tugging at the door and saying, "It′s really a shame you′re not a monkey."

  Mo Bai gave Xue Qiutian a fierce gre before turning and walking into the small grass hut, the only one in his tea shelter.

  Xu Mama swayed her thick waist and greeted Xue Qiutian, then sat down in the bamboo chair where Mo Bai had just been. The bamboo chair immediately creaked loudly.

  Lao Fu came out of the small grass hut carrying a pot of fresh tea.

  Xue Qiutian tilted her mouth to the left and, without looking up, grabbed a handful of melon seeds and began cracking them.

  "Lao Fu always arrives the earliest; you two are the slowest," Mo Bai, now in a new outfit, emerged from the grass hut and shot a sidelong gnce at Xue Qiutian, still upset over the earlier incident.

  "Everyone's here; let's get started," Xu Mama said as she swayed her body and stood up. The bamboo chair suddenly lost its weight and swayed a few times as she moved.

  "It's time to start," Xue Qiutian said, taking a bck ledger from her wide sleeves and throwing it onto the table. "Now it's your turn to keep the accounts!" Her eyes sparkled with a unique light, and she suddenly felt a sense of relief in her heart.

  Lao Fu looked at the bck ledger in front of him, and with a trembling hand, he reached out to take it, his delicate fingers, like fine porcein, gently picking it up and stuffing it into his chest. He didn’t want to look at the dead bck pages, as it made him feel even more uneasy.

  Xue Qiutian ughed, and now she could finally ugh with ease. But the other two didn't ugh. They knew that, in the near future, this ledger would also end up in their hands.

  "That woman... still around?" Xu Mama suddenly remembered what Lao Fu had told him that night.

  "She'll come tomorrow to collect it." Lao Fu lowered his head, not wanting them to see the unease on his face.

  "Then we'll know what's going on," Xu Mama said, her eyes gazing into the distance, her expression bnk.

  "What are you two pying at with these riddles?" Mo Bai furrowed his brows, asking in confusion.

  Lao Fu had to recount the story of the dead person once more.

  Everyone fell silent, and from their expressions, it was clear that their mood was worse than ever.

  Lao Fu walked into the shop, holding the bck ledger. The ledger itself wasn’t particurly special—just a bit darker in color—but to Lao Fu, it felt as though a ghostly cw was relentlessly scratching at his fleshy, mortal heart. He didn’t know what would happen, but he felt an unsettling tension. He smmed the shop door shut behind him, and suddenly, a sharp "crack" echoed through the wooden house. Lao Fu's heart leapt into his throat.